THE THIRD FART

FOUR FARTS A PEAKING

FRIDAY 09.09.94

The tropical sun rose slowly at the start of another lazy day. The palm trees swayed gently in the sultry breeze as the waves caressed the sandy beach with watery fingers.   Meanwhile, far from this idyllic scene, in Woodley the weather was undecided as Clive got into his white Vauxhall Astra and set off for Reading railway station. Arriving at approximately 10:30 he collected Trevor who had arrived hot foot from East Acton via Paddington on an Intercity 125.

Leaving the architectural splendour of Reading town centre behind them they headed for the Wild West. Well, Calcot. Arriving at Maison Joy at about 10:45 they both greeted Joy whose luggage was carefully packed into the Astra’s boot whilst she said farewell to her mum and assorted pets.   Soon the intrepid three were on their way to the exclusive parish of Burghfield Common to collect the fourth and final fart where they arrived at 11:05.

Linda was ready and waiting with her luggage which was soon packed into the boot. Waving farewell to her mum, dad and Murphy the dog the latest Fart began. As we reached the end of Bannister Road, where Linda lived, the clouds parted and the sun shone. Clive decided this was a good moment to adjust his seat. It was going to be a long journey and he wanted to make sure he was comfy.   Unfortunately his seat shot back rather violently and Linda’s legs were rendered squished. Adjustments and apologies were made and they were soon on their way to junction 11 of the M4, still accompanied by the sunshine. This is their story…

11:20

We were on the M4. Go west young Farts.

11:30

The sun was still out, the clouds were fluffy,
The music was pumpin’ and we were on holi’!

11:32

Heading north on the A34.

11:34

Joy and Trev thought they were ABBA (again!) as they joined in with ‘Knowing Me, Knowing You’. Linda and Clive demonstrated a creditable tolerance of their chums foibles.

11:42 A quick leg check: Trev could stretch his out and did so much to the chagrin of the girls who had theirs carefully folded in the rear.   We agreed to swap legs later or perhaps just swap seats. Apart, this is, from Clive who was doing all the driving.

12:03

We reached the M40. The North here we come.

12:19

A change of cassettes. It was Linda’s turn and the first track was from America. Clive gave her the thumbs up.

12:39

We braced ourselves as we merged with the M42.

13:00

We thought that we might have been at ‘Spaghetti Junction’ as we were surrounded by a lot of merging and diverging roads in all directions.

13:03

A short lived traffic jam.

13:09

Spoke too soon: the speed limit was down to 50 mph but we were lucky to be going that fast.

13:00

Speed limit down to 30.

13:16

Trev did some dusting in the front of the car.

13:18

We passed the RAC Control Centre which was indeed a magnificent erection and all the traffic slowed down to admire it **sigh**

13:19

Rain. A passing shower surely.

13:20

Time for a tape from Joy:
“Are we feeling black?” she asked. Linda was wearing black jeans and Trev a black shirt but we realised that the tape was a collection of reggae tracks. We twisted, shouted, got up, got on down and passed the dutchie on the left hand side.

13:21

Heft precipitation! Our optimism wavered just a little.

13:27

We arrived at the Hilton Park Pavilion Services in the sunshine. The car park was very full but we found a space and extracted ourselves from the car just as the Heaven’s opened. We were along way from shelter and had yet to establish where the entrance to the service station was. We ran, following Trev. This was not a sensible idea as he had removed his glasses and had could not see where he was going. It then started to hail.   We found shelter in a tradesman’s entrance. Just as well there was a tradesman passing really.   It transpired that we had run the opposite direction from the entrance but at least it was dry. We, however, were soaked and cold but we had to laugh especially when we saw the looks we were getting from passing motorists.   After getting our breaths back we braved the rain again and ran for the main entrance. A visit to the loos was agreed upon and the girls dried their hair using the hand-driers.

When the gals rejoined the boys it was at a ‘fantasy photo-booth’ where Trev was having his photo taken with Take That. Our laughter attracted some attention from passing sensible types but we didn’t care as we were on holiday! The resultant photo was most amusing. We investigated the restaurantarea and decided upon the cheap and filling Burger King. After selecting and queuing for our delicious and nutritious burgers and chips we settled down at a table where we where deafened by our silence as we ate.   The service station was full of the usual shell-suit clad families on their way somewhere and business men with company cars, mobile phones, brief cases and, probably, jackets hanging up in the back of their cars. No doubt they were discussing touching base with someone or putting something on the back burner and running it up the flagpole to see which way the wind was blowing and putting it on their expenses.

We laughed at Trev’s ‘Take That’ photo. Knowing that one of the group is called Jason Orange, Clive suggested that Trev renames himself Trevor Banana and calls the photo ‘Take That and Fartie’.

14:20

On the road again. The sun was out and we continued up the M6 listening to Joy’s “reggie” tape. Everyone was a bit quiet and some dozing occurred apart from Clive who was driving and remained A Lert.

15:31

We split with the motorway at Northenden.

15:33

We crossed the River Mersey and, with Clive still at the wheel, Trev navigating and the girls bringing up the rear, we wended our way into Didsbury, home of TV icons Richard Madelely and his mother, Judy Finnigan, looking for the Hotel Montana.

15:40

We spotted the Montana as we shot past it. Clive had a right turn and found a place to reverse. We returned to the hotel and made our entrance. The car park was empty so, naturally, we were undecided where to park. A group decision was made. We exited the car and stretched and yawned like four pussies. If there had been anyone else in the car park you can be sure that we would have been rubbing ourselves around their legs and generally getting under their feet.   Clive handed out the luggage and locked up. The boys had one bag each whilst the girls had their hands, arms, shoulders and teeth full. They wondered how the boys managed with such small bags. We made our way to the front of the hotel listening to the rhythmic squeaking of Trev’s bag.

There was a friendly dog in reception that came to greet us followed by a poppet of a lady who checked us in. Trev admitted to having visited before.
“I thought I recognised you”, the receptionist smiled, “You were here for a conference weren’t you? Something to do with Doctor Who?”.
Trev denied this vehemently and, wrapping his ridiculously long scarf around his neck and flourishing his black umbrella with the red, question mark handle, he disappeared to find his room muttering something about “reversing the polarity of the neutron flow”.

Trev had got us this far, surely the final few yards would be a doddle? He was followed upstairs, downstairs, in my ladies chamber and we ended up back at the top of the stairs. Exhausted, three Farts collapsed whilst Trev went back to reception to ask for directions. Our rooms were opposite each other but when Joy and Linda opened their door they found a pair of stout walking boots eyeing them with suspicion. The room was definitely ‘spoken for’ although the occupant was not in residence. The two boys returned to reception leaving the two girls wondering why it always took both of them to sort a problem out. They returned with a key for the room next door to their own and we all retired for a cuppa. Yes, Farts were a brewing.

The gals could hear sounds of much mirth coming from the boys rooms and they demanded an explanation. The titters were caused by Trev’s notion that, should they all go to New England next year as planned, we should all adopt New Age names. Joy was to be known as Star Flower; Clive became River; Linda, Saffron and Trev, Moonbeam. You probably had to be there…

16:30

In high spirits and low heels we set off across the road to the bus stop where we had but a short wait. The driver was very helpful and was keen to tell us where to get off. Inside was quite empty and Trev made a dash for the rear where, rather unsociably, we all sat on different seats.

Just as we were about to alight the driver told us that we might as well stay on until “the end of the line”. An offer we couldn’t refuse. After bidding the driver a cheery goodbye and a hearty and fartie, thanks, we poked our noses around the shops for a while, most of which were closing.   We found our way to the Arndale Centre precinct where Linda phoned home accompanied by a busker on a trumpet. Continuing our meanderings we bumped into Trev’s mate Kevin who we were due to meet in a pub a little later. Trev introduced us all to each other and, just to confuse things, Joy, Linda and Clive all claimed to be someone else leaving Kev in no doubt that were were all there but not completely. With great difficulty we managed to convince Kev, aka KG, to take us to a decent pub. We followed him into the ‘Crown and Anchor’ where we found a cosy table nice and close to the toilets (as per…)

Trev and KG caught up with each other’s news whilst Joy, Linda and Clive found out more about KG himself. After the first round it was decided to go on a pub crawl and Kev led us to ‘The Beer House’ promising a selection of speciality beers which, indeed, it had. KG, with the assistance of a local sat next to us, suggested some brews of note. The orders were ordered and we settled at a table near the corner close to the jukebox.    We were now in high spirits and getting higher with each sup.   We joined in with several of the songs giving our own interpretation of such classics as the Doors’ ‘C’Mon Baby Light My Farts’ and ‘Sail Away, Sail Away, Sail Away’ otherwise known as ‘Orinoco Flow’ by Enya. Apologies were proffered to a couple sitting opposite but they were quite happy for us to continue. The trio sat behind us were looking a bit worried however and clearly hoped that whatever possessed us wasn’t catching.

Trev could not resist checking out the jukebox and was assisted by Clive. As soon as some favourites were found Trev got very excited and somehow managed to throw his glasses up in the air.   Unfortunately they landed on the worried looking trio in the corner. The singing continued until all the selections had been heard and most of the beers had been tried.   Time for a curry. As we walked back towards the city centre Trev and KG entertained everyone with a stunning rendition of ‘Tainted Love’.   We hailed a cab and instructed the hapless driver to take us to the street of a thousand curry houses. To while away the journey Trev and Clive had a conversation which consisted entirely of lines from ABBA songs. This delightful recitation was interrupted when we passed one of those ‘ears pierced whilst you wait’ sort of salons which advertised the piercing of noses, ears, nipples and tregus.   None of us knew what a tregus was but there were no shortage of suggestions. Of course, we could venture forth and ask but the joint was closed and the faint aroma of distant curry was in the air. Nevertheless we decided to find out what a tregus is and left the taxi driver silently vowing never to pick up further bands of roving idiots from the south.

Rusholme. This is, Kev told us, where all the curry houses are situated and we strolled down the street checking the menus and prices.   This plan was short lived, however, as one of the staff from the restaurant we were examining appeared in the doorway and enticed us with offers of free poppadoms. We southerners were very impressed with the food and the prices. Kevin, however, said had had better. By the end of the meal we were all very tired and not really in the mood to boogie all night.

Our spirits lifted by more alcohol however, we agreed to get our party pants on and, having secured a bus back into Manchester we let Kev lead us through the streets to ‘The Swinging Sporran’ which seemed to be the only club that didn’t have a long queue outside. To our surprise it was empty inside.   A disco was at full blast in the corner.   More drinks and the friendly bar staff advised us that if we had any musical requests to let them be known. We didn’t have to be asked twice.   Trev put in a request for late 70s/early 80s music plus a little something special for the stroke of midnight. We didn’t get quite what we expected but we had the dance floor to ourselves and made full use of it doing ‘The Time Warp’, Soft Cell’s ‘Sex Dwarf’ and Abba’s ‘Gimme, Gimmie, Gimmie’ with a floor stealing dance routine from Joy and Linda.

Midnight arrived and with it came Joy’s 30th birthday. HURRAH!

12:40

40 minutes late the DJ finally played Altered Image’s ‘Happy Birthday’ as requested by Trev.   Joy got her revenge for this moment of embarrassment by waiting for Trev to go to the bar next when she proceeded to drop an ice-cube down the back of his T-shirt.   Trev made his way, very carefully, to the loo as the ice-cube made it’s way, very careful, to his underpants. Two rather merry looking chaps of a hippie nature joined us on the dance floor and one attempted to make conversation with Clive and Kev. The music was so loud that it was impossible to understand him.   We were now all long past our peak and wanted our beds.

Bidding a fond farewell to Kev we accosted another cab and entertained the driver with a further rendition of Abba classics and more musings on the tregus subject.   Arriving at the hotel Clive handed the driver £10 for the £6 fare and then asked him for £6 change.   The rest of us cruelly mocked Clive for his mistake as he apologised for our drunken state.   The doors of the hotel were locked and, feeling rather guilty, we rang the door bell.   The poppet lady ran to let us in having just gone to bed. We were full of apologies and agreed to her request that we pay our bills now rather than early tomorrow, err, later today??

02:00

Bed

SATURDAY 10.09.04

We struggled to stir ourselves and make our way to our respective shower rooms this morning. The girls’ hot water pipes made a bizarre vibrating sounds which left Clive and Trev wondered what they were up to and whether batteries were involved.   Breakfast was served betwixt 8.30 and 9.30 so we gathered ourselves together, physically and mentally and made our way to the large dining room which was empty apart from one person. After a cheery “good morning” he soon disappeared.   We graced Joy with her presents and cards whilst awaiting our breakfasts.   The waitress was very nice but seemed to speak little English. Trev’s request for a poached egg on toast was politely ignored and, whilst the others had a Full English the ginger one made do with lots of toast, tea and sympathy.

09:30

We packed our stuff into our bags and stuffed our bags into the car which we left at the hotel pending our return later on. Once again we braved the terrors of the main road and crossed to the bus stop where we boarded a bus heading to the city centre and, our destination, Granada Studios.   Again we were blessed with a friendly driver. This one appeared to be cross-eyed but this did not appear to affect his ability to drive the bus, He advised us to alight at Albert Square. Oh how we laughed at the irony of this given that we were going to be visiting ‘Coronation Street’. We did though. We laughed.   We alighted and followed Indiana Trev through the streets to Granada Studios. Reception was closed. We ventured forth in the wrong direction and had to ask the security guard in the car park for guidance. He sent us around the bend and, there it was… Granada World.

There was much shifting through loose change as everyone gave their money to Trev who had paid for the tickets. The weather had been undecided so far and continued to alternate between rain, wind and very short dry, sunny spells. A tour of the studios was about to commence so we joined the group at the entrance. We were taken through into a studio gallery and watched as rehearsals for something or other took place. Our guide showed us how the pictures were mixed by the director and vision mixer. The rehearsal finished we were taken down to the studio floor where we were shown how to operate cameras and read autocues.   Everyone in the group seemed happy enough to let the kids amongst us play with the equipment whilst we watched the results on the monitors. Trev felt like he was on a busman’s holiday.

In the next room were were treated to a demonstration of Colour Separation Overlay (C.S.O.) and how it was used to produce the weather forecasts. Next stop was the wardrobe and a look at some of the old ‘Coronation Street’ costumes of yore.   Next we visited ‘Make-Up’ where a child volunteered to have a black eye applied whilst the rest of us watched. We were then show exampled of artificial blood. There were different types depending on the effect and the part of the anatomy involved.

A short demonstration of ‘special effects’ followed in the next room. We were all sat in front of a large collection of props and were about to be shown one of yer actual spoons used in last week’s ‘Corrie’ by a cantankerous young lass with a stereotypical northern accent. Suddenly the lights went out.   The woman made her excuses and left with our guide to find someone from Maintenance. This was, of course, all part of the show and, whilst they were gone, objects moved, lights flashed, a chandelier crashed floor wards etc. On their return the woman asked if anything had happened in their absence.
“No!”, we all shouted.
“What do you mean “no”!” she exclaimed, “it took me 20 minutes to set all that up!”
We all laughed and were ushered into the next room which was very small indeed. This was because it was meant to be inside a doll’s house owned by a giant. Outside we could hear something and the roof of the house was lifted up by a giant cat. Fearsome it wasn’t and Joy wanted to make friends with it.

From there we shuffled into a set that was used in the series ‘Return Of The Antelope’. It was actually a living room dressed for Christmas Eve as it would look if we were only two foot tall. There was an enormous Christmas tree; a large pair of slippers by an large fireplace; a piano and stool; tables and chairs and a very large but empty dog basket.

Next we assembled in a small room where the curtains were securely closed over a large window. Or so it appeared. As soon as we were settled the curtains were drawn back to reveal the view from the top floor of a Los Angeles hotel at night. In the distance we could see the famous ‘Hollywood’ sign on a hill and, inbetween, neon lights flashed and lights glowed across the city. Whilst we admired the view a loud throbbing noise was heard as the underside of a space ship moved slowly into view over the city. It too had lots of flashing lights. It moved upward and out of sight and we left, feeling suitably impressed, on our way to 10 Downing Street.
“Right”, said Trev. “unclick those safety catches… let’s sort John Major out!”
“Yeah”, said Linda, “we’re the Fartie Party and we’re taking over.
“Coo!”, said Joy
“Coup”, corrected Clive.

We assembled in the narrow Downing Street set where a policeman, not a real one mind, was standing guard outside. If there’s a policeman standing outside the real one how come Mr Major gets out??    We were encouraged to take photos as one can’t in the real street.

That was the guided part of the tour over so we left in search of the Baker Street set from ‘The Adventures Of Sherlock Holmes’ series.   Conveniently this was situated right outside.   The whole set was roofed over which made it appear to be night-time.   Our first stop was the gift shop which was full of all things Holmesian. Linda found a pile of deer-stalker hats and just had to try one on. Joy found a pipe to go with it and Linda posed trying to look suitably intellectual.

Looking around a large collection of display cases containing various artefacts from the series we bumped into ‘The Family’ that Trev and Joy had first noticed on the ‘Antelope’ set. The Family consisted of a group of about 6 whom we assumed to be related.   A fellow in his mid to late twenties was telling his mother (he kept calling her “Mother”) about all the items in the display cases and which particular episodes they came from. The poor woman must have been very embarrassed as he was being very patronising and condescending and clearly thought he was in charge of a party of infants.

Right next door was ‘Mrs Hudson’s Tea Shop’ and we joined the queue for tea and a slice. There were no seats for a sitting so we stood and Trev appeared to be roped off presumably for security reasons.   After this we explored the rest of the street then made our way outside where we found that the rain had stopped.   Finally we hit Coronation Street and posed outside the ‘Rover’s Return’ whilst a kindly member of staff took a photo of each of us on our cameras. Down came the rain again. We took shelter in another souvenir shop. This one was full of ‘Corrie’ memorabilia and led into a room wherein took place a video presentation of some of the show’s most memorable moments.

We returned to the street in glorious sunshine.   Trev used the phone box outside Denise’s hair salon to call the B & B in Hathersage (where we were staying for the rest of the break) to obtain directions.   We wandered the length of the street admiring Jack and Vera’s stone cladding and posed for more photos outside Alf’s Mini-Mart.   We then perused the back yards before resting up in another area of refreshment where there was a bar called ‘Rover’s Return’.   There we partook of beverages in a snug under a dart board.   This is the only place that sells ‘Newton and Ridley’ (it’s not real you know!) so we just had to try some.   The two gals had small shandies whilst the Clive and Trev had pints of the stuff.   The beer mats were courtesty of John Smiths so no doubt his brewery were also responsible for the ‘Newton and Ridley’.

We became aware that The Family were in the booth next to us. They seemed to be following us. Another photo opportunity occurred as Clive took a photo of his chums in the snug beneath the dart board. Joy was elected to be Martha Longhurst, Linda was Minnie Caldwell and Trev just had to be Ena Sharples. Well, he has the hair-net so “think on and look sharp!”

We discussed our next move: Joy was keen to see The Sooty Show but it required a minimum of ten children in the audience. Even if the four of us were feeling particularly fertile that day it was doubtful if we could produce that amount in such a short space of time.   Perhaps they could make a special concession on account of it being Joy’s birthday?    Instead we strolled down Grape Street and studied ‘The UFO Zone’: an alien spaceship had crash landed and we, as on the spot reporters, must investigate.   Well, it would get us out of the rain which had returned.

Entering we found ourselves in a long, futuristic corridor. Hmm… a very BBC1, Saturday evening betwixt ‘Grandstand’ and ‘Basil Brush’ sort of futuristic corridor. Eventually we came to a man wearing some kind of futuristic military attire sitting at a computer console and handing out ID badges with our names on. We were tempted to give false and daft names but chickened out at the last moment. More BBC corridor followed and then a corner which Trev negotiated in the style of a New York cop. With fingers loaded he came face to face with a member of staff who laughed
“You big kid, I saw you!”   Everyone laughed at Trev’s blushings.

We waited for a few more people to gather and were told to watch an overhead monitor for the security briefing. This was gripping stuff. We were given details of a crashed alien spaceship and were told that our badges were sensitive to radiation: if the radiation symbol had appeared on our badges we had been over exposed Mrs!   We headed to our transport (four seat cars suspended from a monorail) and were soon on our way. The set had been expertly dressed and the atmosphere was completed by flashing, coloured lights and a heft amount of dry ice. Throughout the ride we were kept upto date with commentary and reports from the investigating team. It seemed that the aliens had been killed upon impact but the latest readings indicated that there was one survivor on the loose and that we must evacuate as soon as possible. Taking a shortcut through “dangerous” areas of the ship we reacted very nonchalantly at the gore around us (jars of pickled humans for example). Apparently the alien was making it’s way towards us at great speed. Oh dear. We knew that something was going to leap out at us but what and from where and from whence?    Finally the great, slavering beastie appeared; it’s gruesome head appearing out of the darkness to our left. It was obviously based on the creature from the ‘Alien’ films and had lots of teeth, copious amounts of saliva and an attitude problem.    If effect was completed by a short spray of cold ‘saliva’ from it’s open jaws whilst we escaped unharmed and laughing.

At the exit was a small display of photos and stories about UFOs which we read with interest. There was an interactive exhibit to demonstrate how Black-Holes ‘sucked’ matter and light from our Universe. It consisted of a circular and, not surprisingly, black table with ‘ole in t’middle. The surrounding representation of the Universe was suitably curved in a manner that would have made Einstein proud. To see this amazing device in operation the instructions told us to roll a small coin into the hole.   Joy let loose some copper which disappeared without much effect. Clive then tried but rolled his coin around the roll-in slope. The coin spun round, round, baby, right round in a way that would have made Pete Burns giddy before disappearing into the ‘Black Hole’. Now everything was clear to us: at last we understood where all that loose change goes when it disappears down the back of the sofa.

As we left the exhibit we noticed a group of a dozen or so monitors showing groups that had recently been on the ride. We spotted ourselves and had a good laugh at the bored expressions on our faces whilst the alien did it’s best to put the willies up us. It was possible to purchase stills of this horrific event but all were the same: the photo was obviously taken before the occupants of the cars had noticed the alien. Nice idea. Shame about the result.

What do to next? We consulted a guide. What a sweet gal she was.   The ‘Motion Master’ promised us a thrilling experience. Trevor was hoping to learn something as he felt he hadn’t been master of his motions since he went vegetarian two years before. There was a short queue and a short wait before we were shown into the first part of the experience, a recreation of a 1930’s cinema where we watched short extracts of a typical evening viewing from that era (News Reels, the special effects of the original ‘King Kong’ film etc). Then we moved into the ‘cinema of the future’: the Motion Master.   We were hurried into our seats by the staff as though there was some sort of emergency. In the mild confusion Trev and Linda were seperated from Clive and Joy but we were all seated and followed the instructions to place all loose objects on the floor, fasten our seatbelts and hold on for dear life.

The lights dimmed and our motions started to be mastered. We were all space pilots in the 22nd Century on an important mission with lots of bad types on the loose for us to shoot at. The countdown began and we were off!! The seats moved this way and that in sync with the action on the film.   We felt all the ups and downs and vibrations plus the many twists and turns. We were at one with the film. All too soon it was over and we staggered out into the daylight. We wanted to do it again and again until our fillings worked loose but, alas, we had to go.

Linda would like to offer advice to all future space pilots of the female gender: you’re going to need lots of support!.

It had started to rain again so we headed for the nearest shelter which was another ‘Coronation Street’ souvenir shop. This one was very quite large indeed and was full of all the merchandising that the Merchandising Department of Granada TV could think of. We separated to explore the precious items; masses of Newton and Ridley beer mats; bar towels; beer glasses; spill trays; key-rings; some very large and garish Bet Lynch earrings, more key rings; pens; pencils; Ken Barlow aftershave; Reg Holdsworth aftershave and all manner of knick-knacks, billidoos and thingamabobs for the discerning ‘Corrie’ fan.

Outside again where it had stopped raining.   We passed the basketball stall where, for only £1, you could try your hand at shooting baskets with a selection of prizes for the successful.   Clive, Joy and Linda felt the urge to try but failed to score. Trev had failed to score so many times in his life that be didn’t even bother.

Once again we consulted the guide and headed for the 3D show on New York Street. The entrance was through the DeVere Hotel and up a very grand staircase. We were disappointed to find that the next show wasn’t for ages and, according to the timetable, neither was anything else. Rather despondently we returned to New York Street.

The American cars were, naturally, a bit on the heft side.   In the corner we spotted a NYPD squad car which screamed “photo opportunity’ at us.   Trev suggested that the girls pose as Cagney and Lacey with the car. We mused that we didn’t have any guns… “we could use our umbrellas” suggested Linda and thus it was so. The resulting posing caused much mirth to those passing by. When the girls insisted that Clive and Trev posed as though they were Starsky and Hutch they just couldn’t refuse.

Time was moving on and our stomachs were rumbling. There was a branch of ‘Harry Ramsden’s”, the famous fish and chip restaurant nearby. We had promised ourselves dinner there so we put our best feet forward.   As we approached we saw that the ‘plaice’ seemed deserted. It was open but not very busy. Despite this we still had to wait 20 minutes or so for a table. We took drinks at the bar to console ourselves. Having been called to our table we sat down and studied the menu. This was rather large and interesting so extra time was requested to give it our full attention. Clive, Joy and Linda ordered ‘Harry’s Special’ which consisted of fish, chips, mushy peas and bread and butter with a soft drink. Trev, the token vegetarian, ordered a vegetable bake and pondered whether to have the potatoes or the chips which, the waitress had advised, were cooked in beef dripping. Deciding that the cow hadn’t been slaughtered for it’s dripping he went for the chips. The idiot.

By the time the food arrived we were ravenous as well as ravishing. The portions were so generous that we all declined the pudding which must have been a first.   As we sorted out the bill there was the usual shortage of change and much, “I’ll give you a tenner if you give me a fiver and you can owe me £20 then we’re even…” sort of thing.

Leaving the restaurant we walked slowly back to the city centre. It was sunny and windy and we were all quite jolly apart from Trev who was feeling rather nauseous. The daft muppet had not realised that chips cooked in beef dripping tasted, not of potato, but of steak. He had been unable to finish them and was now of a troubled conscience.   Crossing the road at some traffic lights Clive noticed that one driver seemed be driving by telepathy: his eyes were closed and his fingers were on his forehead. Linda played ‘copycat’ behind Trev until the others started to snigger and he turned around.

We proceeded towards the city centre in an orderly fashion practising our absurd northern accents and loosing our bearings. Trev consulted his ‘A-Z’: because of the one-way system we would be unable to catch our bus from whence we alighted. It was decided to head for Piccadilly where the buses seemed to terminate and, as luck would have it, our bus was sat, sitting their waiting for us. Bless. We lept aboard and sat downstairs near the front. We were all very tired and were having trouble staying awake looking for the Christie Hospital which was where we had to alight to return to the Hotel Montana. An old man got on the bus wearing an extraordinarily yellow skull cap which woke us up somewhat.

The hospital duly appeared but on the wrong side of the road. The bus had forked off and was now on a road parallel to Palatine Road which is where we required to be.   Getting off at the next stop Trev whipped out his map and led everyone back to the Hotel Montana. There ensued a short discussion regarding the possibility of using the hotel loos before we headed east. Deciding that this was taking the pee a bit we all crossed our legs and hopped to the car saving our ablutions until the Peak District. This will be why Buxton Mineral Water has such an air of, err, familiarity about it…

17:54

Following Trev’s navigation we headed for the M63 continuing the reggae theme.

18:00

We left the motorway heading for Stockport and thence into the countryside and on to Castleton. There was not much in the way of conversation as we were all “shagged” to use the current vernacular. Hathersage here we come, ready or not.

19:15

We passed Hillfoot Farm. our B&B and turned around only to pass it again. We turned around again and approached the entrance to the B& B with care. We shouted to Clive, “it’s here, here, HERE!”. We passed it again. Turning around again we made our fourth attempt to make good our entrance but were laughing so much we almost missed it again.   Clive approached the Farm at a crawl and with gentle encouragement from the rest of us (“here, HERE!!”) we were in and noticed that there was a lady in the conservatory smiling broadly at us. Surely she hadn’t been watching our attempts to enter the establishment had she? Indeed she had: this was Mrs Wilcockson, the proprietress.

We heaved our vast array of luggage into the conservatory whilst Mr and Mrs Wilcockson hid in the kitchen no doubt having a giggle at our escapades. Mrs W. showed the girls to their room whilst Mr W. did the honours with the boys.    Joy and Linda were very impressed with their room and Mrs Wilcockson explained that she had seen us driving backwards and forwards past the entrance. She assured us that we were not the first to have this problem and that the record was ten passes.   A few minutes later the girls thought they could hear a faint knocking. Linda opened the door to find Trevor trying to gain access to the wrong apartment.

The village of Hathersage was but a short walk away so it was agreed to go by foot.   We chose ‘The Little John’ to sup in. The ‘real’ Little John is allegedly buried in the local churchyard. Trev and Linda partook of Scrumpy Jack whilst Clive and Joy went for something more exotic. The ensuing discussion ranged over many and varied subjects from religion to our plans for the future.   We all agreed that wherever the twisty, turney path of life took us all that we’d still make time to have Fartie adventures together.

There were many plates of food being served at nearby tables so we made a note to come back tomorrow and give the menu a try. Eventually the pub started to look very empty so we decided to return to the B & B but not before Linda had tried on Trev’s hat and glasses.

There were no street-lamps on the walk back to Hillfoot Farm which, although affording us breathtaking views of the heavens, meant that we kept tripping our arses over each others tits and vice versa, on the uneven footpath.   As least that was Linda’s excuse as she lent on Trev for support until he complained that she was pushing him into the hedges. She lent on Clive instead leaving Trev free to moon at the passing cars with Joy’s help and encouragement. Be not perturbed gentle reader for he kept his trousers up.

Once back at the B&B Linda thanked Clive and Trev for their support. “That’s OK but can we have it back in the morning?”   We retired to our bedrooms where Trev sat on his glasses. Armed with a pair of Marigolds and a ‘Wet-Wipe’ Clive helped him out.

We Four Farties fell into our beds with the rooms spinning around us.

SUNDAY 11.09.94

Thanks to Trev miss-setting his alarm Clive experienced 06:45 on a Sunday morning which was a very rare experience for him. The boys enjoyed bracing cold showers as they were unable to produce any hot water between them.

Meanwhile, and slightly later at 07:15, Joy was up and busy in the bathroom.   After satisfactory ablutions she emerged concerned that Linda might be anxious to use the facilities. Linda was still fast asleep. Subsequently she was unable to gather herself together in time for breakfast so she agreed to meet the others downstairs at the table.

There was much to talk about over breakfast. Joy told how, earlier, she had observed what she perceived to be a strange, local custom: a young girl had been standing in the courtyard with a piece of toast in each hand, arms outstretched towards the sun. A short while later she appeared again but this time holding the toast over her eyes.

Another strange occurrence was the loud snoring which kept everyone awake. It could be heard upstairs and downstairs and, no doubt, in my lady’s chamber. There was much speculation as to which of the guests currently taking breakfast was responsible.

Linda arrived at breakfast and announced to Mrs Wilcockson that she was “passing on the Cornflakes”.   It was an image her colleagues will never forget…   Everyone waited with breath abated to see just what Trev would be given for breakfast: a potato pancake with poached eggs and tomato which he was very happy with.   His fellow farts had bacon and sausage with their egg.   Luvverly.

09:30

We were in the car and ready to go…
**cue intro to The Sweet’s ‘Ballroom Blitz’**

Clive: “Are you ready Trev?”
Trev:   “Uh-hu”
Clive:   “Linda?”
Linda: “Yeah”
Clive:   “Joy?”
Joy:     “OK”
Clive:   “Alright fellas, let’s goooooooooooooo!”

We were heading towards Glossop, the weather being cloudy and dry which, incidentally, is just how Trev likes his cider.

09:46

We stopped to marvel at the panoramic views before us. There was a mass of purple heather covering the hills and lots of sheep. As continued on out way we saw lots of lovely views that were just gagging to be photographed but all the stopping places were in the wrong spots.

10:10

Glossop

10:15

Left Glossop.
“Been there, done that, took no photos” said Clive.

10:36

Buxton. We wandered around the shops, used the cash machines and visited Woolies which was conveniently open on a Sunday. Joy purchased a Buxton Beagle which was our mascot for the rest of the trip.

12:00

We burst into the Grove Hotel which was advertising tea and scones or crumpets for £1.50. HEFT BARGAIN! We were shown into a large, comfortable lounge which possessed more sofas than floor space. We all had tea with scones apart from Clive who fancied a bit of crumpet. Our conversation returned to the ‘Toast Girl’ and then the boys revealed that they had used their loo and shower with the window curtain left open. Not advisable when you’re on the ground floor and a pathway doth run along outside.

Linda encountered he usual problem of being unable to open the ‘chalice’ of milk but managed to get most of it into her tea rather than over herself. Trev started to make up lyrics in the style of Michael Stipe;
“There’s a camel in the bathroom,
And it’s combing it’s hair”, he sang
“This is the Age Of Aquarius,
and love is in the air”, added Linda.
“Very profound”, thought Joy and Clive.

We paid our bills and returned to the car. Buxton Beagle was placed on the dashboard and looked slightly uncomfortable with the air freshener wedged firmly between his legs.

12:25

Tat-ta Buxton.

12:39

We passed Buxton Mineral Water.

13:00

Bakewell. The car park here was full to bursting but with some “assistance” from Trev, Clive managed to ease the car into a vacant spot. Whist we sorted ourselves out with our possessions from the car Linda banged her head on the boot lid. That was usually Clive’s trick. We explored Bakewell and took many photos. There were several book shops and we investigated them all for a dictionary that would reveal to us the secrets of the tregus. No luck. Back on the streets again and it had started to rain. We took shelter in a cake shop and donated our small change to a collection for a donkey sanctuary. Once the rain had eased we took in the local church and took more photos.

14:15

Back at the car park and it took the combined assistance of Trev and Joy to guide Clive out of a very tight spot. As we left we cheerfully waved goodbye to the very patient motorist who had been waiting for us. He glared. We took the ‘White Peak’ route to secure more pretty photos.

14:50

We found a petrol station. As Clive ‘filled ‘er up’ he gave us THAT look through the back window. He does a good impression of a psychopathic killer does our Clive. We headed back towards Buxton and the caves.

15:01

We arrived at Poole’s Cavern, so called because it was allegedly used by a highwayman called Poole as a hideaway. It was a large, natural cave which had been used as shelter for thousands of years. Although it was cold the temperature remained constant throughout the year. The tour guide took us, as part of a large group, through the various chambers and explained their history to us.    All the caverns possessed stalactite and stalagmite formations but the Organ Cavern was exceptional with a huge arrangement that resembled a cathedral organ. There is one formation that was unique to this particular cave and that was ‘Poole’s cat’ because it looked like a moggy.

Another cave was called the Poached Egg Cavern because the stalagmites, which were in the early stages of formation, looked like poached eggs. There were some larger ones which resembled something else. A ‘something else’ that caused much amusement to a group of elderly ladies who could hardly contain themselves at the sight of the phallic growths before them.

The final and very small chamber contained a large block of rock that was named ‘The Sculpture’ by viewers of ‘Blue Peter’ after it was featured in the programme. It sparkled with phosphorescence and looked very pretty until we were told that another suggestion from a ‘Blue Peter’ viewer was that “it looks like my brother’s bum”. We left the caves the same way we had come and returned to the car desperate for jumpers and overcoats after our cold, caving experience. We went in search of hot soup at the on site cafe but it was closed.

Trev was itching to go for a walk so we followed a path uphill from the caves hoping for a view. Through wood, over hill and stile we walked until we emerged into an open field atop the hill. This was Grin Low, part of Buxton Country Park on the former site of quarries and limestone kilns. Copious evidence suggested that the field had recently been occupied by cows. It was very windy but the view was stunning. We admired it for a while from a handy seat. Moving on a little further, Clive, Linda and Trev lay down on the edge of the hill breathing in the fresh air and studying the amazing cloud formations overhead. Sherpa Joy, however, made her way to a splendid looking folly at which the rest of us soon joined her. This was Solomon’s Temple, built at the end of the 19th Century by public subscription to give work to the unemployed.    More photos were taken and, being a wild and windy locale, Linda was inspired to do her Kate Bush impression. Fortunately the wind was such that no one else could hear her. Trev and Clive climbed to the top of the folly (it’s a boy thing) and it was reluctantly that we made our way back to the car. So engrossed were we in conversation that we almost lost our way.

17:00

Back in Buxton we found the Railway Hotel which was open for teas and snacks. In the background the piped music was playing a selection of Cockney ‘sing-a-long’ songs. Cor blimey.
“The management must have noticed that we are southerners”, said Clive. “They must think that this will make us feel at home”. He joined in with the songs whilst Trev made friends with a cat . Linda and Clive made use of the ‘facilities’ which, for Linda, was quite an adventure: the first cubicle was out of use so she made use of the second one which was very small and the bum-paper holder was so far down the wall that she almost had to do a handstand to use it. The taps were very violent and sprayed her with water. Stay tuned for more adventures at your convenience… As we left the establishment Clive could contain himself no longer and launched into a stirring rendition of ‘My Old Man, Said Follow The Van’.

18:00

On the road again.

18:45

Stopped at Ladybower reservoir for some photos. We gambolled merrily down the slope towards the water’s edge and admired the view. There was a large pipeline crossing the reservoir upon which a man was fishing. Exploring further we found an abandoned pumping station which Trev and Clive used for an impromptu game of ‘Hide and Seek’. More photos of a silly nature followed.

19:10

Another stop and more photos before we returned to Hathersage.

19:25

Back at Hillfoot Farm. Clive found the entrance first time and got a round of applause. Removing our bags from the boot Joy noticed that she’d got Trev’s umbrella a bit muddy. She brought this to his attention.
“Don’t worry”, Trev responded. “Next time it rains just put it up”. No shit Sherlock! After this useful piece of advice from Trev we retired to our rooms agreeing to meet up at…

20:30

The girls were ready but where were the boys? They decided to wait for them outside the boys bathroom window. Clive and Trev were deep in conversation and it was some time before they noticed Joy and Linda peering through the window.

We departed, again on foot, for ‘The Little John’ in Hathersage and settled down for the evening at a cosy table in front of the bar. After studying the menu Clive took the orders and the money followed by the usual discussions about change. Trev had Ratatouille which was fine apart from being full of courgettes which he didn’t like. Joy had the Lamb Roast; Clive the Steak and Kidney pie whilst Linda had the Pasta Provencal. We discussed smoking and what an ‘orrid ‘abit it was; how much we can’t stand it; how unsociable it is and bad for the health etc. Nasty, smelly, disgusting, YUK! It was then we realised that we were the only group in the pub who weren’t puffing away. Everyone seemed to leave shortly after. Oops.

The portions arrived and were so big that we were all struggling apart from Clive who, good pal that he is, volunteered to help Trev with his courgettes and Linda with her potatoes. She was suffering from carbohydrate overload. Linda went without pudding as the Chocolate Fudge Cake was off. Trev had a huge pile of ice-cream; Joy an Irish Bash and Clive went the for Treacle Pudd. Nothing escapes Linda the Log-Keeper.

The evening’s discussion continued with the choice of names we might possibly give our offspring. This was purely an academic exercise as none of us intended to have any of the little blighters apart from, maybe, Clive. Whilst Linda was at the bar she heard Clive’s sweet, twinkling voice say something about “… a cheesy Cod Piece”. She caught the barman’s eye and they both started to laugh. Upon her return to the table she realised that Clive was, in fact, referring to food.

We walked back to the B & B without staggering or mooning.

MONDAY 12.09.94

It was raining very heavily and showed no sign of stopping as the Toast Girl left for school. Breakfast was a hushed experience with only us Farties making any conversation. During the course of our natterings Clive, meaning to say “wink”, inadvertently said “wank”. No one seemed to notice. More discussion about the mystery snoring followed. It woke Trev up at 01:00.    Unable to get to straight back to sleep he felt the need to visit the bathroom and turned on the light hoping not to wake Clive. With the light on Trev couldn’t help but notice that Clive appeared to be ‘vogueing’ in his sleep, his bedclothes scattered about him. Upon his return from abluting Trev was pleased to see that Clive had gathered himself and his bedclothes together and gave thanks to any higher powers that might be listening that Clive wore jim-jams in bed.

After breakfast the girls watched ‘Supermarket Sweep’ whilst they waited for the boys. The weather forecast said there was 30% chance of rain in our area. What it should have said was that 30% of the planet’s annual rainfall would be falling on Derbyshire today.

09:36

We set off in search of sunnier skies steaming up the car windows as we went.

09:45

We passed through a place called Hope. It’s the only place to live really.

09:50

We missed the turning for Speedwell Cavern and turned around as did the car behind us. One of the local sheep seemed quite used to this occurrence as it just stood in the middle of the road in quiet contemplation.

Finding our way to the Cavern entrance we entered the shop and enquired within.   A very friendly chap behind the counter told us that the next tour would be in 10 minutes and that we were welcome to wait in the shop until that time. We paid our monies and waited in a very small room full of hard-hats called ‘the air-lock’.   The hard-hats were not compulsory so, being fashion leaders with streetcred to maintain, we decided not to wear them.   The cavern was an abandoned lead mine and we made our way down the steep and wet steps being very careful not to hit our heads on the low roof. At the bottom of the steps our guide was waiting for us in a boat. He was the image of a young John Noakes, that icon of ‘Blue Peter’ and childrens tv in general. He had the same accent and sense of humour. We felt in safe hands.   He told us that we four had the boat to ourselves and, with wobbly uncertainty, we arranged ourselves within it.   We had to keep ourselves well tucked-in as there was only just enough room to get along the passageways.   The ceiling was very low and uneven and he water itself only 3 foot deep.

The mine seemed to have been a disaster from the start. It was originally called the North Staffordshire Lead Mine even though it was and still is, in Derbyshire.   After a while the boat pulled into what is known as ‘Halfway House’ because it’s, err, a third of the way into the mine??   Here we waited until the previous boat, on it’s return journey, passed by. We seemed to wait for ages and we couldn’t recall ever having been anywhere so silent. It was very difficult to make polite conversation when you’re doubled up in a dark cave half full of water. We waved at the passengers in the other boat. They waved back. Bless.

At the end of the journey we arrived at ‘The Bottomless Pit’, so called because the miners used to throw all the waste material into it yet the water level remained the same. In recent times, however, it was discovered that the pit was 35ft deep and, in it’s original state, was probably more than 55ft deep. This particular part of the cavern was formed by water pressure.

From here we could look down a further tunnel. It was very small with 3 inches of water within it. We were told that the original owners of the mine were bankrupt because only a small amount of lead was ever found.

Returning to the boat for the return trip was another very wobbly experience. On the way back our guide explained that the nice breeze we were experiencing was from the ventilation that was necessary to eliminate the small amounts of Radon gas that would be dangerous to the guides if it was allowed to build up in the still air.

We left the boat and bade farewell to our guide as we began tackling the steep climb back up the stairs. Outside it was still raining. We looked around the gift shop and Trevor bought his companions a suckie-fruit-stick think. Outside we looked at the view whilst we all had a good suck. A big decision was made regarding where to go next. It looked like the rain was here to stay so we decided to go further afield.